Stop asking how much she weighs.
Whenever someone asks me what’s wrong, it’s hard to know what to say to them. Do I tell the truth? Do I shrug it off? Part of me feels terrible laying that kind of emotion and sadness on them if I’m honest… But another part of me feels equally as awful if I lie or minimize how terrible I actually feel.
The last month has forced me to live a life I never would have imagined I would. I’m finding myself thinking and feeling things I never imagined I would ever need to. One of the strangest things I find, is how sensitive I’ve become. I’m sensitive over the tiniest things. Things people don’t even notice. Things I didn’t notice before, but now, I can’t help but notice.
Now, I can’t help but shift uncomfortably every time a stranger or even a friend or acquaintance asks me how much she weighs or how old she is. She’s tiny. I know this. I’m not blind. I don’t need eighty perfect strangers to point this out to me or interrogate me about how well she does or doesn’t eat. But I really don’t like being asked the weight question. I also don’ t want to explain what exactly is wrong with her to everyone who happens to ask. I also don’t like the shock and almost accusatory looks I get when I do answer the question. I also don’t like people who keep pressing for answers after I’ve already made it pretty clear I don’t want to talk about. My child is fed well and taken care of well. I don’t owe any one an explanation, and I’d really appreciate it if people stopped pressuring me and making me feel as if I do.
Maybe I’ve gotten mean since everything with Ava has happened. I feel like I have. I’m less tolerant of people now. I have a hard time caring about trivial “problems.” I’m really lacking in the empathy department. Your boyfriend dumped you? I’ll trade you. You’re broke? I’ll trade you. Your boss is a jerk? I’ll trade you. It all seems so stupid now.